


Fantasy

by Discordia (MikaMyers)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dom Bottom!Historia, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Smut, Strap-Ons, Sub Top!Ymir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaMyers/pseuds/Discordia
Summary: Historia is in a bad mood. Ymir wants to fix that. A fantasy ensues.
Relationships: Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Fantasy

Ymir had been with her girlfriend long enough to know when she was in a particular mood. One might call it a sixth sense, to walk into their shared apartment and immediately feel the charge that hung thickly in the air. Too quiet for one, too… heavy. When she’d first felt this sensation all those years ago she would be concerned. Dating Historia was a blessing even during their bad days, but it didn’t take long to realize that there were several _quirks_ that one had to get used to.

In a sense, that was a blessing on its own. To be the only one who’d see this side.

“I’m home,” she announced, sliding her shoes off and pushing them to the corner. There was no response as expected. Not today. Ymir headed further into the apartment and smiled fondly upon seeing Historia slaving away over the stove. Her hair was pulled up loosely, the buttons on her shirt undone a few too much if it was a more professional setting. She squinted, peering down into a pot clouding the air with steam.

Historia sighed. “I think I just burnt the soup. Again. These instructions barely help!” She gestured over to a sleeve of paper sitting squarely on the countertop with a nod of her head. Right, one of those prepackaged cooking services. The two of them weren’t exactly the most creative coming up with meal ideas - nor were either fond of going grocery shopping. This was the appropriate alternative for the time being as it was supposed to be an excuse for brushing up on their cooking skills.

Needless to say, that hadn’t been going well.

Ymir’s brow quirked skimming over the instructions. “Pretty sure you put the heat up too much. It says medium while you…” she glanced to the stove. “...put it on high. The highest setting in fact. I think you like to prop yourself up for failure when you do shit like this”

“What does that mean?” Historia’s tone was as sharp as the knife that laid next to her, glimmering from the dull light lit above. That wasn’t a response suitable for one of these days, not one that her girlfriend would take in stride and see it as nothing more than a harmless tease. No, Ymir could see her bristle, maybe even see the hair stand on the back of her neck.

Simply put, Historia was in a bad mood. The heaviness in the apartment, not saying hello, taking minor comments to be jabs… It could’ve been a variety of reasons as to what brought this. Work was the most common, sometimes her family was a bother. And, sometimes Historia reached a boiling point much like her burning soup where she was on the cusp of exploding. The days that Ymir had to pick up the pieces of her girlfriend and slowly put them back together were difficult. She loved Historia. But, she had a lot of issues. Baggage. 

Ymir would do anything to make her feel better.

“Nothing,” Ymir replied, moving to stand behind Historia and soon had her arms wrapped around her waist. She gave an affectionate squeeze feeling Historia’s body still, attempting to reassure her. “Nothing at all. Why don’t I try to rescue what remains of the soup, and... “ Her breath tickled the shell of Historia’s ear. “...you go get dressed. We’re having dinner after all.”

Her insinuation didn’t fall on deaf ears. Once the idea was presented there was an immediate shift between them, and Ymir’s breath hitched feeling Historia press back against her. She’d decided to pack today in hopes that it would end up with bending her girlfriend over the dining table in the name of mutual stress relief. That wasn’t going to happen now, but it would be of use. 

Historia was… specific when she was in this mood.

“Sounds good. Don’t forget to get the salad out of the fridge, too.” She reached up and slender fingers grazed against the freckles dotting Ymir’s face. “And, Ymir?”

“Hm?”

“I expect a glass of wine with my meal. Don’t forget.”

She wouldn’t.

\---

Historia always gave more than ample time to set up the dinner table. It had to be exactly as she described when they both sat down and laid out what this fantasy would entail. The finest dinnerware they owned - the type saved for special occasions - was laid out even for guests that wouldn’t be visiting tonight. It didn’t matter. That was yet another detail that demanded inclusion for no other purpose than satisfying Historia. At this point, Ymir had some idea of where this fantasy came from after indulging it for this long. A type of fantasy that would never leave closed doors lest they wanted to be ridiculed by some of their friends.

Well, more so Historia than Ymir, the latter having no real issue with people knowing as she wasn’t embarrassed by it as much as the former was. Funny in hindsight as Historia was the one to bring it up in the first place, but Ymir supposed that it was a sensitive issue she trusted Ymir enough with to share it after some months of dating. A little odd in the beginning to be called _that,_ to be thought of as an authority figure she never could quite be. And, if it was solely this then Ymir wasn’t sure she could continue on with it.

It wasn’t, if her still sticking around meant anything. A relationship required sacrifice, and Ymir was more than willing to give up both her pride and identity for one night of debauchery because she loved Historia all too much. Scary to strip herself down to a husk, but perhaps it was more terrifying that her girlfriend was hurt enough in the first place to have this be a therapeutic roleplay.

She hoped at some point Historia would finally dial the shrink’s number, maybe realize that it was a little strange to have daddy issues _this_ bad. But, she digressed.

Once the candles were lit and the food distributed between her side and Historia’s she brought out the wine glasses and poured the crimson liquid until they stained red. She took a few swigs from the bottle itself to loosen herself up, not wishing to ruin the scene by having her glass different from Historia’s. 

Ymir rolled up her sleeves, smoothed the fabric the best she could, and waited patiently to hear the click of the bedroom door after she put the bottle away. The candles flickered and wavered as seconds ticked by, soon becoming minutes, illuminating food that was going to wilt and wither away by the lack of human touch. A downside, really. She had the thought of putting it away for leftovers after they finished every single time but was always too tired.

Too sore.

The bedroom door clicked open. Ymir stiffened, straightening her back out and clasping her hands behind her back. The click-clack of heels drew nearer, louder and louder until the sound stopped and Historia stood in the darkened hallway, a hand cradling the frame of the arch. The candlelight barely cast over her features, but the little she saw pulled the breath she held into a faint whimper. Historia was never a _hot_ girl typically. An Amanda Seyfried than Megan Fox. The girl next door you crushed on but was too scared to face rejection so you bit your tongue and tried to move on with your life. That’s how Ymir saw her the first time she ever laid eyes on her. Cute as a doll and a personality sweeter than honey. 

Lies. All lies. 

Because this… was who she was when no one cared to look, and Ymir was startled by the two-faced nature that bubbly princess she met in college turned out to truly have, now wearing a dress accentuating every curve hidden by the constraints of professionalism and watching Ymir so blankly she had an urge to _run._

But she didn’t. She loved the fear too much.

“You look absolutely _exhausted_ tonight,” Historia cooed, the thinnest of smiles appearing on shimmering lips as she slowly swayed over to the other side of the dining table. The candles burnt her doe-like eyes into a wildfire while she surveyed the dinner laid out. “And even so you made the effort to do this all for me. I feel so… special.”

Ymir merely nodded. She hadn’t been given permission to speak, and how quick Historia could go from seductive to punishing was not particularly appealing tonight when she already had her tongue taut like a whip. And, Ymir despised ever having to get to the point of uttering the safe word. Felt too… weak if she did. 

Historia took the soup spoon and mixed it into the broth. “Looks like you saved the soup, too. Got home in the nick of time,” she hummed.

This was the foreplay before the actual foreplay even began. Pleasantries to set the scene, to subdue Ymir into thinking the night was going to be anything but strange. Too bad the charm had long worn off by now, but there was a certain thrill and queasiness of being fully aware there was nothing she could do to stop the train that was coming straight for her.

“We should eat before it gets cold,” Historia decided, and the pair sat down on opposite ends in perfect sync. 

Ymir could admit the food did look appetizing especially after a long day of work. Despite her inability to use a stove properly, Historia delighted in cooking whenever she had the free time to do so and it made Ymir’s heart flutter seeing that despite a bad mood she indulged herself in it. The salad in particular bore the brunt of her cravings, and she momentarily became distracted remembering Sasha call it “rabbit food.” She couldn’t help smiling.

“Is something funny?”

Looking up, Historia’s smile had draped lazily into a smirk, jaw cradled by slender fingers that Ymir could feel pressing against her neck. Tightening. Squeezing until marks were left. She throbbed, shifting, shaking her head.

“No, dear,” Ymir replied. “Nothing is funny.”

She’d been caught slipping, falling out of the fantasy and back into the real world and her real friends. Sasha wasn’t a figure in this fantasy. She shouldn’t have been thinking of her.

_Fuck._

“I hate when you do that.” Historia brought the glass of wine closer to her, giving a tentative whiff before taking a small sip. Her lips pursed, throat bobbing with the swallow. She set the glass back down. “Thinking I don’t notice when you’re distracted. Am I that unimportant to you? We can’t have one dinner where you’re able to focus on me?”

“I’m…” She shifted again, sweat already starting to prick to the surface of her skin at Historia’s words, her accusations. “...sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Historia said, and she took a longer sip. The glass scraped against the dining table. “I don’t want your apologies. I want a fucking answer.”

“I care about you, dear. So much. It was a mistake. Please…” Ymir didn’t know what she was pleading for but seeing the way Historia’s demeanor changed with the simple word was what kept her groveling at the altar. Among other things, like the next phase of their night. 

Historia considered the answer given to her, leaning back into the chair, and the way her arms crossed only served to accentuate the swell of her breasts. Ymir imagined the way Historia’s breath hitched whenever she dragged her tongue across them, nipples stiffening under her touch until she was persuaded into finally moving downwards. 

Tonight was the worst to be _aching_ for Historia.

“I don’t believe you,” Historia sighed, beginning to slouch in her seat. “You know why?” Ymir caught the amusement flickering in Historia’s expression when she shook her head. “Because you’re a liar. A _filthy_ one at that. You don’t deserve to be sitting here with me right now. In fact…” Her pause felt more like years than seconds. “...I think I prefer you on your knees.”

It came off as a suggestion, but Ymir knew full well that it was anything but optional. That was a command through and through, one that she obeyed without hesitation. Her hands and knees greeted the cold floor as she slid out of her seat, crawling underneath the table and waiting like a dog wanting scraps. Historia’s thighs were pressed together and that told Ymir she was thoroughly enjoying the exchange, smooth skin shifting against one another when she tested her luck with a gentle kiss to the exposed flesh.

Historia flinched, then sighed. “God, you scared me. Too bad I don’t have a collar wrapped around your neck, hm? Have a bell alerting me to where you are.” She giggled and reached down to cup Ymir’s jaw in her hand, raising it until they met eye to eye. That impish smirk played in Ymir’s vision. “You’re quivering. Don’t tell me my _daddy’s_ scared to be near her little girl?”

There it was. Every time they did this the moment she’d let the pet name out was different. Though normally it was when they made it to the bedroom she dropped the bomb. Ymir wasn’t sure how to take it being used this early. Excited, maybe. Curious. Or, antsy, too. All three likely.

“Of course not, dear. I-I just…” She cleared her throat. “...feel terrible for ruining dinner. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Hm…” Historia’s head tilted in mock thought, the pad of her thumb running against the edge of Ymir’s jaw. “...I suppose there is something.” Her thighs spread, and Ymir _throbbed_ seeing that Historia wasn’t wearing any panties. Clearly, this little interaction was planned from the get-go. “Show me how much you’re sorry.”

Ymir didn’t need to be told twice and scooted closer to see what she was working with. Meanwhile, the clinking of silverware above told her that Historia was distracted with the food spread out before her. Good. She liked seeing the progression from ignorance to riding her face with no restraint. Another kiss was given adjacent to where the first one was planted, calloused fingers running over the canvas she’d been given to work with.

Historia rose slightly from her chair to allow Ymir to push her dress up a bit, once again ignoring the small kisses peppered to and fro from the crook of her knee all the way to her inner thighs. She nipped at the pale flesh, tongue soothing the marks afterward. Ymir wasn’t sure she was going to be allowed to leave her mark anywhere else so she took her time with the opportunity she did have, eventually stopping to admire just how _wet_ Historia was.

During moments like these, she was great at keeping her composure but getting between her legs told an entirely different story. She grazed a finger over her folds and tasted the familiar tartness of Historia’s desire, managing to keep the rising laugh threatening to spill over when she blew over her clit and watched her hips jerk forward.

They repeated their movement when Ymir’s tongue circled her clit. Another clink was heard above, and any patience Ymir kept unraveled hearing the faintest of gasps from Historia when she gave the gentlest of nips to it. It wasn’t as if she needed to have the best technique to satisfy her with just how sensitive Historia truly was, and it was proven when she felt sharp nails dig into her scalp and pull at the messy locks falling out of her ponytail. 

Ymir worshipped her the way she knew how - giving her all and praising every inch of Historia’s pussy with an eagerness that had never quite diluted as the years passed by. Having her thighs slowly close around her, the salty tang of Historia coating her tongue until all that she could see, taste, touch, was _her, her, her._

“Oh, _God._ R-Right there…” Historia’s words were more whimpers than anything, yet with the way she held on tightly to Ymir’s hair like a leash to direct her it did little to change who was in charge here. Ymir focused on the spot Historia was wanting her to be, knowing she had it right when she bucked into Ymir’s mouth and stayed there, thighs tightening and losing the thought of her being an individual but instead seeing her as a means to an end, a means to come and shatter like glass on her throne.

Ymir’s clit throbbed almost painfully behind the strap she wore, a wandering hand palming the length and pushing it harder against herself in a futile attempt at soothing her own needs. She knew she’d been caught when Historia gave a sharp pull of her hair.

“You’re not getting off if you touch yourself again,” Historia warned, a shudder running down her spine feeling Ymir’s attention back onto her swollen clit. “ _I’m_ the only one who gets to touch your cock. Got it?”

Their eyes met briefly and that was enough for Historia to see Ymir got the memo, seemingly satisfied. Her head lolled back against the chair with another swipe of Ymir’s tongue, lips parting and the satisfying cries of bliss like honey to her kneeling worshipper. Seconds passed and her ever-rising notes reached a crescendo when she hit her peak, coming onto Ymir’s face with quick jerks. 

Grounding out the last of her orgasm, she managed to settle back into her chair and released Ymir from the vice-like grip. Ymir savored the taste, swallowing, and caught her breath. She felt a little lightheaded, even more exhausted than when she first came home. Right now felt like no better time to take a nap. Not that it would be happening. 

Historia appeared to be on the same level that Ymir was when she stole a glance. Her eyes still hadn’t opened, remnants of come dripping down onto the plush cushion she sat on. Even so she looked _breathtaking,_ otherworldly. Everything about her was carved from the finest marble - sharp and soft in all the right places. Hair forever soft and silky in Ymir’s fingers, eyes bright and gleaming like polished gems.

She was a goddess, and Ymir was nothing more than a mere sheep ready to join the flock that followed her every move, listening to every sugary-sweet word.

“Daddy?”

“Hm?” She was brought out of her appreciation by the sound of her temporary identity, now noticing Historia was watching her with equal interest.

“Don’t tell me you zoned out again,” Historia pouted, the harsh grip that had kept her in place replaced with light scratches mussing her hair. She likely would’ve been more annoyed if she hadn’t come moments prior, so Ymir took the chance to nuzzle into the touch, blushing all the while.

“I was just admiring how beautiful you are. Cheesy, I know.”

Historia tittered at the explanation. Her smile spoke of the Historia she knew outside the fantasy, and Ymir returned the gesture seeing the flickering candles exposing the crimson contrasted against pale skin. “It isn’t! I love when you look at me like that…”

She caught herself falling out of the roleplay and blinked, removing her hand from Ymir’s head much to the latter’s chagrin. “But do you know what I love more?”

Ymir shook her head.

“Taking what’s _mine_. I’m going to use the bathroom and I expect you to be ready in the bedroom once I’m done. No touching. I’ll know if you did. Is that clear?”

“Yes, dear.”

The smirk she wore bordered on dangerous.

“Good. Now, run along.”

\---  
  


Ymir about fell trying to get to the bedroom in one piece. Her legs had become the consistency of jelly from kneeling on the hardwood floor for so long, prickling needles sending sharp pain until the grogginess in her legs wore off by the time she made it to the bedroom.

Historia had prepped the room when she changed, evident by the dull red casting its color onto the furniture like a low production porno. Ymir never got the point of the LED lights but the retort was some variation of aesthetic, mood, setting, whatever that meant. She’d shucked off the majority of her clothes - undoing her ponytail in the process - and was left solely in her briefs, palming herself before remembering the clear instructions and instantly moving her hand away. She couldn't quite remember when _that_ was added to their repertoire, but it’d become a fan favorite of Historia’s and admittingly Ymir’s as well. It was more fun to be able to come home from work and press up against Historia, undo her belt, and bend her over the counter…

Shit, that had been the plan until she set foot in the house. Now she was left sitting on the edge of the bed straining to hear for Historia’s arrival. She felt like a student sent to the principal’s office for misbehaving, and she must’ve looked the part because as soon as Historia walked in she seemed momentarily caught off guard.

“Why the long face? I thought you’d be excited for this,” Historia teased, clad in nothing but the hickies that were beginning to crop up beneath her thighs. She closed the door behind her and needlessly bent over to lock it.

Ymir whimpered at the sight, straightening her posture. “I’m always excited for you, dear. I got lost in thought…”

“You’ve been doing that a lot tonight. If I was a different girl I’d think there was someone else on your mind.” The statement was spoken so casually that Ymir didn’t fully grasp the weight of it at first, but when she did her heart sunk. 

_Is that a part of this or…?_

“Uh…” Ymir cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly. “...what do you mean? Is this a serious question…?”

Historia stood with her back towards Ymir. She didn’t answer right away and left Ymir wondering if this had become kinky to an interrogation disguised as fantasy. She’d never been asked this question before during it, so that implied this was likely directed at _her_ than the person she played. Why would Historia ever think that…?

“Hey.” Ymir rose from the bed and walked over to her. She hesitated before placing a hand onto her shoulder. “Baby, look at me.” Her small body trembled underneath Ymir’s touch, and when she decided to bite the bullet and turn her she realized she was crying. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” Historia muttered, and whatever bravado she held in the palm of her hand dissipated into shattered remains. “I’ve just… I get worried. About you getting tired of me.”

“That _is_ stupid,” Ymir replied and wiped away a tear that was sinking down Historia’s cheek with her thumb. “C’mon, like I’d ever get tired of you. I keep getting distracted because I’m amazed you decided to lower yourself for _me._ And yeah, I know I’m quite a catch but you? A different level.”

“Really…?”

“Yes, really,” Ymir asserted. “I don’t crawl underneath a dining table for just anyone.” She grinned seeing Historia pout, tipping her chin up with an index finger. “Seriously. Don’t think I’m done with this whole roleplay you like doing, either. I know it helps you relax, and…” She pressed onto Historia, grinding the strap against her. “...Daddy _really_ wanted you to play with her.”

Historia groaned at the sensation, that same doe-like expression Ymir fell in love with shifting back into a composed mask sharing mere amusement. Her hand snaked down and _squeezed_ the bulge tending Ymir’s briefs. “Is this all for me?”

“Y-Yes…” Ymir huffed, hands moving back to grip Historia’s shoulders. It wasn’t like she could actually feel anything, but it shouldn’t be discounted how arousing it was to see Historia take what she deemed as her own, and Ymir wouldn’t ever deny that she was. “...I’m all yours.”

“Say it again, Ymir.” Historia gave another squeeze to her cock, her free hand moving to press a thumb down onto Ymir’s stiffening nipple and eliciting a whine. “I wanna hear how much you love belonging to me.”

She didn’t confront the usage of her name instead of “Daddy,” instead continuing to push into Historia’s touch. “ _God,_ I’m all yours. Every single inch of me.” Ymir bit back an expletive when Historia tweaked her nipple. “U-Use me to come. Whatever you want…”

“Whatever I want?” Historia mused, leaning in to give a kiss to Ymir’s chest. “Go sit on the bed.” She released her grip and gave a playful push.

Ymir stumbled over to the bed and sunk down onto the edge. She watched as Historia slithered closer, dropping to her knees. Her large blue eyes appeared darker than usual due to the lighting, glimmering with a mischievous flicker that Ymir was relieved to see had returned from the temporary drought that crying brought. Her thighs were spread open somewhat and Historia’s slender fingers reached into Ymir’s briefs to bring her cock out.

It looked far bigger in Historia’s hand than it did when Ymir situated it that morning, but to be fair _everything_ appeared larger when held by her. She gave a few lazy strokes to the shaft, observing Ymir’s face contort into an attempt at reeling some of her pleasure in. She smirked, giving a tentative lick to the tip of it, and slowly started to suck.

“It’s not fair how good you look right now…” Ymir sighed, jerking a little more into her mouth feeling the blunt end of Historia’s nails raking against her thighs. Having Historia give equal worship to her when it wasn’t necessary heightened her arousal to the point the line was blurred between a state of mind and actual physical sensation. She used to find it embarrassing how she’d finish without ever being touched by Historia, but now…? 

Her hips jerked again, fingers threading the sheets. Historia’s head bobbed up and down faster now, low whines telling Ymir she wasn’t the only one getting something out of this Though, that likely was from Historia playing with her clit while she took more and more of the cock into her mouth. Ymir gasped when Historia took her hand and put it on the back of her head. 

She was given permission.

Historia’s hair curled around Ymir’s fingers, given a sharp pull with every thrust further and further into her throat. Ymir’s heavy pants accentuated the movement until she forced Historia’s head forward to bottom out. She kept her still, reveling in every jumbled moan forced out of her until the pressure angled _just_ right against Ymir’s clit and-

“ _Fuck_ , I’m gonna come-!”

With one final thrust she tightened her hold on Historia’s head, whimpering with each passive thrust after losing momentum until she reclined back into bed. The cock left Historia’s mouth with a pop, and she nuzzled against the length, saliva slathering against her cheek.

“I didn’t even get to finish, Daddy,” Historia whined, and she gave a chaste kiss to the tip before using Ymir’s thighs for support and picking herself up. She proceeded to straddle Ymir, rubbing up against the toy in circular motions. “Was I that good?”

“ _Yes._ ” Ymir went to hold Historia’s hips but her hands were promptly slapped away. “Am I not allowed to touch you…? I wanna get you off, too.”

Historia took the shaft in her hand and began to position it near her entrance. “I know you do. But remember what you told me?” She grinned. “I get to use you the way I want, and right now I wanna come all over your cock.” With that she sunk down, Ymir tensing as her length sunk into Historia’s cunt. 

The urge to fuck her without abandon increased when Historia rocked against her, cupping her own breasts in her hands and giving a squeeze. She whined, and the sound awoke every nerve in her body egging her to fuck the consequences and show her how much she could fuck her raw. Historia somehow seemed to sense that and quickly restrained Ymir’s wrists above her hand with a surprising amount of strength.

“H-Have you been…” Ymir word’s stuttered, having that familiar pressure be pushed down against her overstimulated clit with each rise and fall of Historia’s hips. “...working out?”

“Maybe.” Her grip tightened at her reply in some form of demonstration. “Or, you’re just so weak for me, Daddy. Take your pick.”

Historia's giggle was broken off into another moan when Ymir thrusted up in an act of defiance. She couldn’t help herself, and if the beautiful blonde riding her truly wanted to get off hard then Ymir was more than willing to help her reach her goal. She moved in tandem with Historia, doing her best to angle herself in order to hit that one spot she _knew_ would unravel her into a withering mess. It took a few tries, but she knew she achieved it when Historia’s back arched and a shudder ran through her body.

“Y-Ymir-!” She swallowed a moan. “Oh my, _God._ I need more. Right there, right where you were…” 

There was no denying that she felt a surge of pride seeing Historia begin to crack with each passing second. Her ragged breaths filled the room turning into whimpers, moans, and eventually bordering on screams when Ymir broke free from the hold Historia had on her wrists and used her hips as a means of bottoming out with each thrust. 

Historia’s arms wrapped around Ymir’s neck as she drew closer to climax, familiar tears cropping up from the corners of her eyes. “I-I love you, Ymir…”

“I love you back. So much.”

Her nails dug into Ymir’s neck when she climaxed, inner walls tightening and squeezing the cock stretching her out. She collapsed into Ymir’s arms afterward and nuzzled her chest. They were silent as their breathing evened out into a low hum. 

“You know-” Ymir said after a while’s worth of pause. “-I noticed you weren’t as strict as you usually are with me during this. I half expected to be slapped when I broke out of your grasp.”

Historia shifted a little. “I was lenient, huh?” She kissed where Ymir’s heart thrummed along to a silent beat. “I’m not sure why I was tonight. You _were_ being sweet, though and it kept taking me out of it!”

“Oops. Didn’t know that was a bad thing,” Ymir teased, leaning back into the mattress and taking Historia with her. She squeaked, earning a laugh from the former. “I’ve been feeling extra grateful this week, and I know I’m supposed to be acting like a dip during the roleplay but-”

She was silenced by Historia’s kiss. “Shut up, Ymir.”

“I’m not Ymir, I'm your Daddy,” she corrected.

“That’s even more of a reason to stop talking.”

“Make me.”

Historia did for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I really just wrote that lol. I wanted to practice writing smut so here we are. Thanks for reading!


End file.
